


A Tale of Two Quaffles: How Oliver Married Marcus

by crochetaway, Squarepeg72



Series: Rolls and Grudges: A Series of Strange Events [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Quidditch, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 12:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19723972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/pseuds/crochetaway, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squarepeg72/pseuds/Squarepeg72
Summary: There was a spark when they were opponents on the pitch, but it died in the aftermath of the War. Can they survive the sparks that are ignited by their pairing under the Marriage Law of 2004?





	A Tale of Two Quaffles: How Oliver Married Marcus

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fourth in a series of stories that started with a writing challenge: Hermione's Haven's Roll-A-Partner 2019
> 
> The Prompt that started it all:  
> They were told that complex arithmancy was used to find the best match when the marriage law was passed. The reality is a bit - different. What really goes on behind the scenes in the Office of Births, Bonds and Deaths when a marriage law is declared. Or ‘ship wars with consequences. Sexual tension that results in Closet and/or desk sex. ‘Ship sinking in context. Happily Ever After
> 
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/148170750@N07/48228144276/in/dateposted-public/)  
> 

_01 May 2004_

Flames flickered in the fireplace as Marcus watched the light dance off the dark liquid in his tumbler. Practice had been trash today. He had almost been knocked off his broom by a bludger because he was thinking about the fight he had with Katie instead of the play they were supposed to be running. Whatever the reason, he was in a foul mood and not fit for company. The new marriage law was not helping things. Everyone was on edge, waiting for their letter to arrive.

Marcus took a long swallow of his firewhisky. It did nothing to settle his nerves or his mood. The flat was empty when he got home from practice. Katie had made good on her threat. He could still hear their last fight echo through the empty room.

_“I am done waiting for you to decide. Marc. I want more. I want it all, not this half-life we are living.”_

Katie was right. He was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for something to go wrong. Marcus could not seem to settle anywhere. This restlessness was what had ended every relationship he had tried to have. It had burned him to the ground once … he was never going to let it happen again. Maybe, letting someone else decide his life partner was a better idea than trying on his own.

_02 May 2004_

Water washed over Oliver’s skin as he let his thoughts run through that day’s practice. Nothing had gone right. He was missing simple moves, and strategies were falling apart. This was not a good sign. The game with the Harpies was in a few days, and Ginny Weasley had been a terror to his hoops the last time they had faced each other. It didn’t help that everyone was distracted by that bloody law. All they wanted to talk about on the pitch had been who they might get paired with. That was not the discipline his team needed to win their next match.

Oliver did not want to go home. He knew the flat was going to be empty. Adrian had owled before practice saying that he would be gone by the time Oliver got home. Oliver really did not want to think about the fight they had a few days ago. Adrian had wanted to talk about the “what ifs” of the law. Oliver wanted to talk about strategies for the match against the Harpies. Adrian accused him of avoiding things he did not want to face. Oliver sputtered in Galic and stormed out of the sitting room.

_“Ollie, I will not do this with you again. Quidditch is not everything, and this law is going to change things for a lot of witches and wizards. Quit hiding and talk to me.”_

Adrian was not far off the mark. He was hiding. Hiding from a broken heart that would never heal. Oliver had been shit at relationships since the War. He had let one wizard burn him to the ground … and then had watched him walk away. Oliver was never doing that again. No matter what a bloody law said.

_03 May 2004_

Marcus stared over the hills as his fellow Tornados ran another drill. The rustle of wings caught his attention, and he turned his broom away from the pitch. Eight owls, flying in fighting formation, were heading towards the pitch. With a sharp whistle, Marcus got his teammates attention. “Tutshill, incoming!”

Marcus almost fell off his broom trying to catch the letter a small grey owl had dropped to him. The parchment was crisp and smelled of tea. Bold, pink ink scrawled his name across the front of the envelope.

“Time to go home, mates,” Marcus called. “Looks like we all have other business to attend to tonight. Be back on the pitch at noon tomorrow. The Cannons won’t wait for us to sort out our love lives.”

Marcus shoved the letter into his kit. The silence in the locker room was more than he could take. Slamming his locker closed, he looked around the room. “Chins up, we have a game in three days. Get some food, get some sleep and be ready to work when we get back tomorrow.” Marcus pointed to his kit. “Worry about that letter from the field later. I’m headed to my flat and my bed.”

_“Mr Flint, I demand you remove me from this foul space and open me,”_ shrieked a voice from inside his kit. Marcus ignored it and stormed out of the locker room.

When he got home, he threw his kit in the closet and sat down to work on game plans for the Cannons. Fifteen minutes into writing out his plans, an unholy screeching began. He covered his ears and spent twenty minutes searching his flat before he figured out where the noise was coming from. Once he realized it was coming from inside his kit, he took out the letter and set it on the low table in the sitting room. The longer he stared at it, the thicker the air became. So, in true Flint fashion, he shoved it back in his kit, closed the closet door and had dinner. He was hoping a quiet, dark place would get the letter to be quiet, but that was not the way his day was going.

“Merlin’s beard, I’m going to have to open the damn thing to get it to shut up,” Marcus mumbled as he stepped out of the shower and the damned thing was still screeching.

Growling, Marcus yanked open the closet. “Bloody hell, all I wanted to do was have dinner and get some sleep, in peace and quiet.” He ripped open the zipper and dug to the bottom of his kit. “And the damn pink menace will not be quiet. You should be happy you were only at the bottom of my kit. There other places I would have rather shoved you.”

Marcus dropped his bag back into the closet and took the letter to his study. At least the bloody thing had stopped shrieking when he took it out. Reaching the sideboard, he poured himself a tumbler of firewhisky. “How bad could it be? I’m not doing a great job with my love life,” he muttered as he sat in his favourite chair and opened the letter.

_Mr Marcus Flint_

_You are to report to the Office of Births, Bonds, and Deaths by 15 June 2004 with proof of your marriage to Oliver Callum Wood. According to the provisions of the Marriage Act of 2004, all witches and wizards must marry the partner chosen for them within six weeks of this notification. Failure to do so will result in the loss of all personal and hereditary property and incarceration of up to ten years in Azkaban._

_Sincerely,_  
_Dolores Umbridge_  
_Director_  
_Office of Births, Bonds, and Deaths_

“FUCK!” Shattered glass on the floor matched the shattered scream that left his throat.

_04 May 2005_

“Ollie, you are going to have to open it.” Adrian stood in the kitchen door, leaning against the frame. “I brought mine so we can look together. Knowing the witch in charge of that office, it is not going to go away. It is only going to get worse if you wait.”

Oliver looked up from the letter that rested on his scarred kitchen table. “I dinna want to do this. I want to try to fix us, not destroy us.” Oliver’s burred thickened as he spoke. “I canna do this. It hurts too much.”

Adrian walked across the kitchen and laid his letter down on the table beside Oliver’s. “I don’t think we can be fixed. All we have done is fight for the last six months.” He sat at the table and reached for Oliver’s hand. “None of that matters now. Unless I can find a way to overturn this, we have to follow the fate that has been written for us in these letters.”

“Ian, I dinna wanna,” Oliver’s voice cracked as he squeezed Adrian's hand. “I dinna wanna see what that witch has planned for you and me. I canna breathe.”

“Ollie,” Adrian’s voice broke. “You are so fearless on the pitch that it scares me senseless. There is nothing that this letter can do to you that is any more dangerous than what you do on a broom.”

“It can break my heart,” Oliver sighed. “I dinna know that I can survive that again. I almost dinna the first time. I … canna …”

Adrian moved around the table until he and Oliver were sitting side by side. “We do this together. Then, we figure out how to survive.”

Oliver picked at the seal on the back of his envelope. “On three … Ian … I canna…”

“Yes, you can, Ollie.” Adrian slid a finger under the seal of his letter. “On three … one … two … three…”

The only sound in the kitchen was the ticking of the clock and the rustle of parchment. Adrian tangled his fingers with Oliver’s. “Well, this will be different. A witch for me, one of the main players in the office that sent out these letters.”

“Merlin, anyone but him,” Oliver’s voice whispered. “I’ll burn … Anyone but him …”

_“Sprèadhadh e!”_ echoed through the kitchen as Oliver’s teacup shattered on the wall. Adrian paled as he watched Oliver storm out of the room.

_05 May 2005_

_Neutral ground? Tomorrow. To talk - Marc_

_Does that exist? Muggle London. To talk - Ollie_

_Crystal Palace Park. Early morning? I need to run - M_

_Fine. 6 am. I have a game to plan - O_

_06 May 2004_

Marcus watched the sun peek over the trees as he rubbed the piece of parchment in the pocket of his joggers. He was headed for where he had asked Oliver to meet him, and he was dressed for a run. He and Oliver had traded owls most of the day yesterday to arrange this meeting. To the outside world, it would look like two athletes training. But, he knew better. They were two former lovers who had almost destroyed each other. Now they were being forced to marry. Opponents on the pitch and in the bedroom.

Marcus looked at the figure pacing under the signpost at the start of the Green Chain Walk. He had picked the Crystal Palace Park entrance of the Walk because it was isolated and very few people used the path this early in the morning. He and Oliver need to talk about more than the letters they had received. There were still wounds that needed to heal. A jog on the Walk would give them the cover for their conversation. Maybe he could find a way to mend some of the wounds they had created when their relationship had exploded five years ago. Just because you looked and acted as if the wounds had healed, didn’t mean they actually were.

“Ollie,” Marcus called as he jogged towards the signpost. “Ready for a run? Training sprints or endurance jog?”

“Marc,” Oliver blushed as he watched Marcus approach. “Endurance jog. I need the cardio work to prep for Holyhead. Weasley has been a terror for Keepers this season.”

Oliver fell in beside Marcus as he jogged by. The next twenty minutes were filled with the sounds of trainers hitting the pavement and deep breathing.

Marcus stopped at the gates to Dulwich Park and bent over.

“You okay, Marc?” Oliver asked as he stopped beside Marcus. “Looks like you might be a bit out of shape for this run.”

“I’m fine, Ollie,” Marcus replied as he straightened. “Just trying to figure out how to start a conversation neither one of us wants to have. Walk with me?”

“Do I have a choice?” Oliver muttered as they started to walk across the footbridge. “It seems like the Ministry has decided to take choices away from us every time things seem to get better. What is the point in a conversation?”

“We need to talk about lots of things.” Marcus looked down at the ground as they walked along. “Including what ended things five years ago. I know I haven’t been the same since. I’m guessing you haven’t either.”

“What is there to talk about?” Oliver stopped in the middle of the path and grabbed Marcus by the arm. “We stopped trusting each other, we both have tempers, and everything exploded.”

“And nothing makes sense anymore. “ Marcus turned to look Oliver in the eyes. “There is something missing in every relationship. I feel hollow, even when someone is with me.”

“So, how do we fix it?” Oliver sighed and reached for Marcus’ hand. “Not like we have a choice. According to the bloody letter, we have six weeks to figure out how to be a couple and make it official. Is there any way around this?”

“Not according to what I have heard.” Marcus looked at the callous hand that held his. “I guess we start with apologies and promises that can be kept? I don’t know how to do this…”

“I’m sorry,” Oliver mumbled. “I know I have a temper, and I let the past run through what we were building. I need to know that you won’t hide us this time… even if we are playing on different teams.”

“I’m sorry,” Marcus stuttered. “I was stubborn and scared. I let what was expected of me and what my family thought was acceptable drive me away. I need to know what was there, isn’t gone … even though I was stupid enough to walk away.”

Oliver laid his head on Marcus’ shoulder. “We both have work to do. This is a disaster. Worse than any match I have ever played … That bloody witch and her meddling…”

“Is this such a bad thing?” Marcus whispered, wrapping his arm around Oliver’s waist. “We get a second chance. Have dinner with me?”

_07 May 2004_

_Zaffrani’s at 7? - M_

_Game tomorrow, Can’t stay late - O_

_How about 6? - M_

_Okay - O_

Oliver paced on the sidewalk outside of Zaffrani’s. Marcus had said to meet at six and it was now half past. “Bloody hell, canna even be on time the first day…. I canna do this …”

“Ollie,” Marcus yelled as he rounded the corner. “Practice ran late, and Coach wanted to talk to me about next week’s game. I’m sorry I’m late… I know you have a game tomorrow…”

“Forget it,” Oliver started to walk away from Marcus. “I was here when I said I would be and you weren’t. I dinna have time for this. It’s bloody Weasley and the Harpies tomorrow.”

“Please, Ollie.” Marcus grabbed Oliver’s hand and tried to pull him towards the restaurant. “I got here as quick as I could. This is going to happen as long as both of us are playing. Practices run long, and coaches want to meet afterwards. We can at least eat before you hex me.”

Oliver looked down at their joined hands. “I guess this part of the ‘trust’ thing we have to work on. I am hungry, and it is Indian food … “

“Thank you.” Marcus grinned. “I know they have Sabji Makanwala on the menu tonight... I called to check.”

“Well, I canna pass up a good Sabji Makanwala.” Oliver held open the door for Marcus. “But, it may not save you next time …”

* * *

“Marc, I have to go.” Oliver put his napkin on the table, and pushed back. “I have a game tomorrow and it is getting late.”

“You don’t have to go.” Marcus reached for Oliver. “It is only eight, and you don’t go to bed until ten, even the night before a game.”

“I have to go over a few things before I go to bed.” Oliver grabbed Marcus’ hand. “Game plans and equipment and such. We can get together after the game tomorrow. I’ll leave a ticket for you at the gate.”

“Just like before,” Marcus sighed. “Under the same name? It has been a while since I used that name.”

“No, under your name.” Oliver pulled Marcus’ hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “You need to ice these before they bruise worse. What exactly happened at practice?”

“Stupid, bloody letters,” Marcus felt himself blush as Oliver continued to kiss his knuckles. “Tempers were hot, and mistakes were made. I’ll be glad when all of this settles down.

“Dinna get yourself hurt,” Oliver let Marcus’ hand go and stood from the table. “Brooms and quaffles are a dangerous mix when tempers get involved. We both have the scars to prove that.”

“All part of being a Captain,” Marcus stood to follow Oliver out of the restaurant. “Can I walk you to your Apparition point?”

_08 May 2004_

Oliver looked at the battered quaffle he kept in his locker. It was the quaffle that he had thrown at Marcus’ head the last time they had been together in his flat. He needed to get his head in this game or Weasley was going to make him pay for it in the hoops. The race to the championship was tight, and Puddlemere needed the win.

“Wood.” Oliver was startled by his coach’s voice. “Don’t you have some hoops to defend? On the pitch in five minutes.”

* * *

Marcus had never been nervous picking up a ticket for a match. But today was different. Oliver had left a ticket in his name, not in a nonsense name they chose the night before. Approaching the Will Call window, Marcus smiled awkwardly. “Oliver Wood left a ticket for Marcus Flint?” His mouth felt like a desert, and his heart was racing.

“Right here, sir.” The young wizard in at the window handed over his ticket. “Enjoy the game.”

Marcus had forgotten how loud and colourful a Quidditch match could be from the stands. It would be nice to have a familiar face to sit with while he watched Oliver in the hoops. He had never been good at watching Oliver play. He took too many risks when he was guarding the hoops. A flash of green and gold against dark skin caught his attention in the crowd. Was that Blaise? Why was he here? “Zabini! Since when do you attend matches? Come sit with me and watch Wood keep Weasley from scoring.”

“More like watch Weasley score on Wood. I’m here to cheer for my intended.” Blaise blushed as he shook Marcus’ hand. “Seems someone at the Ministry thinks that a Zabini and a Weasley make a good pair.”

“Bloody hell,” Marcus sighed. “That pink menace really ripped through everyone, didn’t she?”

“So, who did you end up with?” Blaise pointed to a pair of open seats on the row above where they were standing. “Did you get Katie?”

“No,” Marcus pointed to the hoops draped in blue and gold. “I got a Keeper.”

* * *

Marcus was going to have a heart attack if this game got any closer. He had watched Oliver flip and zip in front of the hoops for the last hour. The last shot he blocked had him hanging off his broom by a bent knee and a prayer. “Bloody hell. Please tell me she isn’t going to do that.”

Marcus grabbed Blaise’s arm as he heard Weasley’s sharp whistle echo across the pitch. She already had two goals, and Marcus saw Oliver tense. “Merlin’s beard, he’ll kill himself trying to stop her. Weasley… don’t!” Marcus’ shout followed her as she dove toward the pitch.

_CRACK_. Marcus looked at Oliver as he heard the beater make contact with a bludger. The bludger wasn’t coming for Oliver, but Oliver blanched as he looked down the pitch.

_“GINNY!”_ Blaise’s voice filled his ear as his arm disappeared from Marcus’ grip.

_09 May 2004_

Oliver sank onto the sofa in his sitting room. He was too tired to think, and Marcus was going to be here in twenty minutes. Waving his hand at his kit, he watched it float into the closet and settle on the floor. “I’ll close my eyes for a few minutes. Then, I’ll figure out food.”

Oliver jolted awake as Marcus touched his shoulder. “Do you often nap with your Floo open? Anybody could drop in and take anything.”

“I was not napping,” Oliver grumbled as he stood up from the sofa. I just sat down to rest my eyes for a few minutes. Practice wasna easy today.”

“Practice is never easy, and you stayed up late working on game plans.” Marcus ran a finger down Oliver’s cheek. “Did you sleep at all after you left my flat last night?”

“Aye, I slept.” Oliver yawned and looked towards the kitchen. “I was going to cook something for us when I got back. If you can give me thirty minutes, I’ll come up with something.”

“Not to worry.” Marcus followed Oliver into the kitchen. “I called for pizza from Flying Pies. It should be here in about ten minutes. Veggie Supreme for you, Meat Supreme for me.”

“Flying Pies? I’ve never heard of it.” Oliver opened the cabinet to get a glass. “But, then, I don’t go out much during the season and pizza isna in the diet this late in the season.”

“Floo delivered pizza service.” Marcus leaned against the doorframe. “Hannah and Neville are trying it out. You can break the diet for one night.”

“Did Nev make the pizza?” Oliver chuckled as he poured water into his glass. “I have heard about his beverage experiments, and I’m not sure I trust him.”

“Hannah does NOT let Neville in the kitchen.” Marcus smiled. “None of us want a Herbology lesson for our meal or the chance of side effects that came with his last liquid experiment.”

A thump at the Floo caught their attention. “Looks like the pizza and beer are here.” Marcus walked out of the kitchen towards the Floo. “Where do you want to eat?”

“Sitting room,” Oliver answered as he followed Marcus out of the kitchen. “Just put everything on the low table. I’ve got the plates and stuff.”

Marcus and Oliver settled on the floor on opposite sides of the low table in Oliver’s sitting room. “Thanks,” Oliver sighed as he bit into his first slice. “I needed this. So, what are going to do about those bloody letters."

"Either get married and keep our careers or refuse to get married and lose everything." Marcus sighed and leaned against the sofa. "Not much of a choice. Can we live with each other?"

“We can try.” Oliver set his plate on the low table and looked towards the fireplace. “I dinna like this, but we dinna have a choice. Where do we live?”

Marcus patted the floor beside him. “Come sit here before you fall over. We don’t have to decide where to live right now, just how.”

Oliver moved around the table and settled beside Marcus. “I’m too tired to think right now. Part of me says to just go down there tomorrow and get it over with. Another part says, wait until the last minute and hope things change. I dinna know what to do.”

“If this was a game with the Harpies, what would you do?” Marcus asked as he turned towards Oliver. “How do you plan for a Harpie, Ollie? You beat them at their own game.”

“Keep our own flats for now, but get the marriage out of the way?” Oliver’s eye began to twinkle as he considered Marcus’ plan. “Marc, when did you get so good at planning? I like the way you are thinking.”

Marcus placed a finger under Oliver’s chin and turned his face. “I am a Slytherin after all.” He grinned as he leaned towards Oliver. “I did watch you plan for a few years. You write marvellous game plans…”

Oliver’s brain stopped working the minute he felt Marcus’ lips touch his. Soft and demanding, Oliver felt himself fall again. Pulling back, Oliver ran a finger down Marcus’ jaw. “I think I am beginning to like this plan. Tell me more.”

“We both are off tomorrow,” Marcus began to lay out his plan as he laid small nips and kisses along Oliver’s jaw. “We get bonded in the morning and, then, watch what happens next.”

Oliver groaned as he felt himself blush. “I canna think when you do that, Marc,” Oliver stuttered. “You make me burn when you do that.”

“Good.” Marcus groaned as he felt Oliver’s hand brush the front of his khakis. “Who needs to think. Can you make me burn, Ollie?”

“What would make you burn, Marc? Does my touch still make you burn?” Oliver nipped Marcus’ neck as he brushed his hand up and down Marcus’ hard cock, teasing him through the fabric of his khakis. “Is this what you need, Marc?”

“Bloody hell, this is what I miss.” Marcus’ groan filled the quiet of the sitting room. “No one does that quite like you. But there is too much between us.”

Oliver slid his hands under the waistband of Marcus’ khakis. “You have new scars, Marc. I need to see. Show me how you have changed.”

Marcus struggled to get his jumper off as Oliver flicked the button on his khakis. “No fair, Ollie. I show you my scars, you show me yours.”

Marcus lost his ability to speak as he felt Oliver’s calloused hand wrap around his throbbing cock. “Ollie…”

_10 May 2004_

Marietta was trying to get her stomach to settle as she watched Weasley and Zabini walk out of the small chamber that had been set aside for bonding ceremonies. “This is going to be a long day,” she mumbled as she looked down to her podium to see which ceremony was next. “Merlin’s beard, Wood and Flint. I may need fire resistance and explosion containment charms.”

She slowly walked to the door and looked around the larger chamber. The next couple on her list were snogging in the far corner, not paying attention to anything. “Wood and Flint. Bring your witnesses,” she called for them before she could lose her temper. Nothing happened. They were still sitting in the corner like no one else existed in the world.

The slam of the outer door broke the spell in the room.

“Parkinson, do you have to slam everything,” a small voice followed the loud noise.

“Now that we are all awake,” Marietta cleared her throat and looked down at her list. “Flint and Wood, you are next. Do you have witnesses?”

Marcus looked around the room and shrugged. “Didn’t think of that. Did you, Ollie?”

Oliver kissed Marcus’ neck and shrugged. “Nope, no game plan for that today. Oi, Weasley, care to witness this? Parkinson can join us, too.”

Ron blushed as he looked around the room. “You ask her. I’m not making decisions today.”

Pansy huffed and looked at the other couple in the room. “We watch your disaster, and you watch ours?”

Marcus laughed as he looked around the room and pointed towards the door. “I’m good with that. After you two then?”

Oliver, Marcus, Pansy, and Ron followed Marietta into the smaller chamber. “Now, Wood and Flint, stand in front of the podium. Parkinson behind Wood, Weasley behind Flint.”

Marietta shuffled through her book of bonding ceremonies while she waited for the foursome to rearrange themselves. “Shall we begin … We are gathered to witness the bonding of these wizards. Declare your intentions to your beloved …”

Oliver reached into his pocket and pulled out an etched, heart-shaped stone. Placing the stone between their hands, Oliver’s voice filled the small room. “I, Oliver Callum Wood, take you, Marcus Thomas Flint, to be my husband, to be your constant friend, your partner in life, and my true love. I promise to love without reservation, honour and respect you, protect you from harm, comfort you in times of distress and grow with you in mind and spirit. This is my promise and my bond.”

Marcus watched as a green ribbon twined around their clasped hands. Taking a deep breath, Marcus followed Oliver’s lead. “I, Marcus Thomas Flint, take you, Oliver Callum Wood, to be my husband, to be your constant friend, your partner in life, and my true love. I promise to love without reservation, honour and respect you, protect you from harm, comfort you in times of distress and grow with you in mind and spirit. This is my promise and my bond.”

Marietta tried not faint as she watched a red ribbon joined the green already around Oliver and Marcus’ twined hands. This was not going the way she had planned. Umbridge was going to be a devil to deal with today. Sighing, Marietta spoke the last lines of the bonding ceremony. “So it is spoken, so it is bonded. You may celebrate your bonding.”

“Hello, husband,” Oliver’s quiet burr whispered around the room as he leaned into Marcus and kissed him softly.

“Hello, husband,” Marcus replied as soon as he could catch his breath. “Shall we go home now?”

_12 May 2004_

Marcus smiled as he picked up his copy of Seeker Weekly where the owl had dropped it on his doorstep. Today’s cover should get some attention. Exclusives tend to do that.

“So, what’s got you smiling this early in the morning?” Oliver asked as he leaned against the doorframe between the sitting room and kitchen. “I know it isna the fact that we play each other this week.”

“No, husband,” Marcus kissed Oliver’s cheek as he passed by. “There is an interesting cover story this week. I especially love the cover photo.”

Oliver looked that the magazine Marcus had laid on their kitchen table. “Not a bad picture. I needed a shave, but you look …”

Oliver’s comment was cut short by Marcus’ lips. Breakfast and magazines were forgotten as the newlyweds made their way back to bed.

_The Keeper and His Keeper_

_Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood have answered the question that has coloured their careers since their explosive break up five years ago … Yes, you can play Quidditch on opposite teams and have a solid relationship._

_“It took a law that makes no sense to bring us back together, but Ollie and I are going to make this work,” Marcus Flint told this reporter as the couple walked out of the Office of Births, Bonds, and Deaths two days ago._

_“We are committed to taking what this law has given us and making it work,” Oliver Wood added. “Life and Quidditch are about second chances …”_

**Author's Note:**

> Scots Gaelic:  
> Sprèadhadh e! = Blast it!


End file.
